An Apology to My Readers

I want to apologize for the lack of posts on my blog for the past few months, the internet at the training center takes frequent coffee breaks and when it does decide to work, its like watching a sloth cross the highway…I have posts and pictures and they will be up very soon.

A few brief highlights of my experience so far:

I am learning Sereer with two other volunteers

My site is at Ndorong-Sereer, a small rural town of 800-ish people. I am relatively close to mangroves and there are many monkeys wandering around and up to no good. Look it up on Google Earth!

We have finished our garden and even taught a garden demo, pics will be up soon!

I met my work partner from Ndorong-Sereer, he’s very motivated and eager to introduce me to the town.

I ride my family’s donkey on the regular and have been taking care of it for the past month. We’re on a first name basis.

I’m swearing in as a volunteer in two weeks! 

More updates coming very soon, I promise. 

 

 

I

 

First Understanding of Senegal by Way of Smell

“The first condition of right thought is right sensation – the first condition of understanding a foreign country is to smell it.” – T.S. Eliot

Stepping out from the dreary and sleep deprived red-eye flight to Dakar, I inhale. My nostrils are saturated by the sticky odor of fermenting fibrous humidity, a sweaty bittersweet battle of growth and ripening, rot and decay. A few steps later, the cool salty ocean wind wofts a current of stale grains, oversalted fish, and the unmistakable crisp, starchy, freshness of Madar, the leading Senegalese brand of laundry detergent. The natural humidity of Senegal (which rivals that of Bikram yoga) coats, soaps, and permeates this remarkably unique smell into my pores, hair follicles, and eventually, beneath my fingernails. It is more unusual than it is unpleasant. I find it fluctuates with intensity throughout the country, becoming more intense when in hotter more vegetated regions. Cities tend to include sour stabs of spilt Libyan oil, smoldering garbage, baking cement, animal feces, unwashed and flea-ridden dog, moldy months-old stagnant water, gamey grilled goat, and salty boiled beans. As for an “understanding” derived from Eau de Senegal, it’s the equivalent of smelling a steak and having than innate understanding that it’s juicy and delicious. It’s something internalized and inexplicable and only makes sense once you’re here. While my understanding of Senegal is still evolving, after eating the food, drinking the water, washing my clothes, and working in the garden, there is something deeply comforting about the smell of Senegal pulsing through my veins.